New Life
by ElizaAnthony
Summary: It's 15 years after the war, when Peeta and Katniss are expecting their first child. When Peeta decides to visit Haymitch one afternoon while Katniss rests, Katniss wakes up to a painful situation. Post Mockingjay.. Epilogue continued.


It's right before dawn when I am awakened by yet another nightmare. My heart races, pores sweat, head spins, breath rages. Immediately, my hands fly to my swollen belly and I sigh in relief.

Almost every night since Peeta and I knew we were expecting, I was haunted by the night terrors of losing our child. Some nights it would be a quick death, peaceful. Other nights, nights like this, brought vivid claws of the mutts that would tear their way through my womb, sucking the life out of me and the baby. But each time it has changed. In the first Hunger Games, the mutations' faces were those of the dead tributes. In my dreams, they were those of the ones I love. Gale, Haymitch, Rue, Prim, my mother, my father, even Prim's cat. Nothing could compare to what face I would see almost every time.

Peeta.

Normally, it would begin with Peeta and I laughing, smiling, loving. Suddenly, the tracker jacker venom would spread visibly through his veins, his eyes would turn jet black, and he would transform into a giant mutt. Slowly, as if I was heavily sedated, unable to wake up, paralyzed to my mind, Peeta's mutt form would rip my skin layer by layer, brutally destroying the life we had worked so hard to eventually have. The baby would hang from his snout, Peeta would laugh maliciously, the vibrations shattering my heart.

Sometimes I wish the Capitol could some how hijack my memories of anything Hunger Games, if it still existed.

The warmth I felt wrapping itself around my waist brings me back from the terrors. I look down to see those soothing blue eyes awake my soul that warms my heart.

"Hey," I whisper as I smooth the hair from his forehead.

"Hey," he smiles while placing kisses to my belly. "Did you have another dream?"

I sigh, leaning my head against my pillow, "Yes, much worse than last time."

He groans, holding me tighter, "I don't want you under any strain. You're already so close to your due date. I wish I could take it all away."

I stroke his hair, running my hands through the waves of gold "I know" is all I say because after about 15 years, you begin to know what we want to give and take from one another.

"At least, I can make you forget," he begins to kiss his way up my torso.

I hum, "You have always been good at that."

He's at my lips now, brushing them, like the wings of Mockingjays fluttering through the wind. I pull his head close, locking our lips, my limbs exploding with warmth. The feeling spreads as it always has, from my lips, to arms, fingertips, chest, toes, now my womb. I almost cry at the thought of Peeta and how he has always cherished me in a way that I never could have dreamed or imagined, especially what we had to suffer many years ago due to the hijacking, Snow, and the Capitol.

He cradles my face between his hands as his lips explore the spot between my right ear and neck, "You love me, real or not real," I ask.

He pulls away, still holding my head, locking his eyes with mine, "Undeniably, unmerited, absolutely, unconditionally, forever real." He kisses my nose, his eyes watering, "Real. Real. Real."

After my short hunt, I crash onto the sofa near the window in our living room. The room is alive with the color of the fireplace blazing while the snow falls outside. I rest my head on the cushion feeling exhausted even though it's not yet noon.

I feel a hand on my forehead and lean into it, "How're you feeling?"

"Fine," I say, "Just completely spent."

He begins to run his fingers through my hair, "Why don't you go and rest. I'll clean what you've got."

Soon after Peeta and I were married, he genuinely wanted to learn how to skin and clean game. At first, I thought he was joking until one day he joined me on my daily hunt, took down a squirrel, and told me to show him.

After a few pitiful attempts not to vomit, he got the hang of it.

"Alright, but it's not much." I laid on a hand on my belly, smiling, "Our child is not generous with sharing energy." I yawn, grabbing Peeta's palm and kissing it.

"Go on, sweetheart, you need to rest. You know I am _now_ perfectly able to skin some squirrels without losing my breakfast."

I laugh, "Yes, _now_, you wimp."

"Thanks, baby, you always know how to boost my ego."

"Always," I reach up to kiss him.

_I'm running._

_The arena is full of mutts; amongst them are Prim, Gale, and Peeta._

_I can hardly catch my breath as I load my pregnant body through the twigs, thorns, branches, even patches of blazing fire. Then, my feet feel like balls of lead, much to heavy to move. _

_They're gaining on me, and fast._

_I groan, thrashing, trying so hard to free myself of the weight, but it's impossible. Just in time, there's Peeta. His face contorts to the hatred I had seen so long ago, when the damage of the venom wanted to choke the life out of me. Then his blood thirsty eyes shoot to my belly, his lips curl into a mad smile as he lunges._

When I wake, I'm screaming.

"Peeta?" I call but I'm greeted with nothing. My heart is drumming so hard in my chest it throbs.

Suddenly, a shot of pain roars through my lower back and abdomen. My eyes go wide.

_Oh, no._

"Peeta?"

My hand falls on a piece of paper with scribbling on it. I look down and read:

_If you wake up, I'm with Haymitch. He called me right after you fell_

_asleep. I'll be home very soon._

_I love you. Real._

I can't help but smile when I'm assaulted with another sharp pain, this time continuing for about 3 minutes before it lets up.

Then, I feel a gush in my lower abdomen.

I gasp, feel the abundance of water I am now sitting in, and start to cry. Now, I know exactly what's going on. I'm about to deliver this child. I have to get to Peeta. Slowly, I try to get up, grabbing onto the night stand with a bone crushing force. The pain has seemed to subside but the pressure is enormous.

I'm brought to my knees when the next round of pain hits.

What seems like centuries ago, my mother once told Prim and I that she delivered a few babies in her life time. One detail I heard from her as well as many other women is that the closer the pain waves, or contractions, got, the closer to the time it was to push.

Push.

_Push. _

I almost felt my entire body screaming it to me.

"Peeta," I whimpered. I needed him desperately to be at my aide. My energy, despite my long nap, was fading fast and my whole being was shaking, so terrified, so much in pain.

Another contraction hit, much stronger this time, full of pressure, stitched with shots of misery pricking at my back and stomach.

_Push._

"No!" I argued with myself. "Peeta!"

Finally, I heard something coming from downstairs. I almost burst out into hysterical fits of laughter from relief when another contraction rips through my lower half, and now I'm screaming as loud as I can, "Peeta!"

I can hear the terror in his voice, "Katniss?" I hear his foot fall as he loudly makes his way up the stairs.

I pant, clutching my stomach. The pressure is far too great now, I know that in a few short moments, this baby will be in our arms.

_Push. Push. Push. _

He slams open the door, takes a look at me, horror floods his face.

"The baby," is all he manages to say.

"We don't have much time! I have to push, help, now!"

Immediately he's on the ground grabbing my arms to sit me against the bed. He darts up retrieving a few fluffy white towels from our restroom.

"Katniss, we need to call the doctor-…"

"No, there's no time, we have to do this now. Right now."

He nods, moving his hands to the waist band of my sleeping attire. I do what I can to wriggle out of them but the movements are sending my body into writhing mode. Pain shooting in all directions.

"Dammit!" I curse as the contraction comes and stays for too long.

Peeta's hand is on my lower abdomen now, as if looking for some type of moment. Then I realize he's slightly bracing himself for what he might see where the baby's crowning head is, down _there._

"Peeta, look at me." He does. "I know to push when I feel a contraction; you have to stay with me. I cannot do this without your help." Stab of pain everywhere. "So _stay_ with me," I hiss.

His eyes are now trained on me, determined and fierce.

We're ready.

I groan loudly, lock my jaw, bring my chin to my chest, and push hard. Mentally I count to ten before I rest.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." His eyes are shiny as he sniffs hard, gathering himself. "Keep going, keep going, baby."

Another contraction hits, I repeat the process a few more times.

_One, two, three, four, five…_

"Aguh!" I hit my head against the bed, utterly exhausted. I whimper over and over again, no, no, no.

"You are so close, sweetheart, so close." He touches my cheek. "And strong. There has never been a woman like you. You're a fighter." A tear runs down his cheek. "I have never been more proud of you than I am now, you are so beautiful, my love. I love you so much and this little miracle is ours. Right here," he touches the place where the baby's head is. "Come on, my Katniss, my Mockingjay, push. Give it all you've got. For Prim."

As if the world and this current event has ceased, my mind goes to Prim. How absolutely joyful she would be right now. Peeta knows this. I envision Prim beside me, I feel her beside me. She's in my ear, encouraging me to press forward.

Prim is here.

I plant both hands firmly on the ground, brace myself, and push with absolutely everything I've got.

_One! Two! Three! Fou-…_

It's the sound of Peeta's sobs and a baby's cry that freezes me in this moment. My eyes flutter to my husband, which holds our child, his eyes glowing, tears flowing. His smile makes every part of me fill with joy, I have done it. We have done it.

"Katniss," he breaths, trying to control the tears and laughs. "We have a baby girl."

That's when I look at her.

Her eyes are bright blue, like Peeta's. She has a dark down on top of her round bloody head. My heart swells, tears running down my cheeks.

I whimper, "Let me see her, you call the doctor."

Peeta crawls over to me on his knees, gently placing our daughter in my arms. He holds us both in his arms for a moment, kisses my temple, "You are incredible," and leaves to reach the hospital.

I tighten my arms around the small bundle, gazing into her blue eyes.

"Hey, hey, sweet girl," her little eyes dart to mine, my world stops.

We stare at each other for a long moment, before she starts to scream.

I laugh and hold her over my shoulder, cooing to her. Then I begin to sing,

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow,  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow,  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes,  
And when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm,_  
_Here the daisies guard you from every harm,_  
_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true,_  
_Here is the place where I love you._

I fold her into my arms again, she sleeps. I smile down at her, wiping her dirty forehead, and rest my head against the bed.

Peeta comes back, sits beside me, kissing my ear.

"She is so beautiful," he whispers.

I nod, "I cannot believe we did it." I rest my head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around the both of us again.

I feel a tear hit my cheek then I look at Peeta.

"I am so happy, thank you, Katniss. For her," he brushes our baby girl's cheek with his thumb. "For everything. This life we live wouldn't have been possible without you, sweetheart."

I reach up and kiss him, longingly, adoring, in reverence, "We've made it this far, found boundless love, and a daughter, safe without the Hunger Games. Real, or not real?"

After what seems like a lifetime of struggle, you cannot help but wonder if happiness is an illusion. So close you're afraid it will be taken away.

He holds us closer, leans down to kiss our daughter's cheek, then my lips, "Real. Real. Real."

_The End. _


End file.
